The Course Of Hate And Realization Is Strong
by BrokenFreak
Summary: When a match is planned. Its supposed to be followed through with. When Chris Jericho and Shawn Micheals' hate enters a match and goes too far. What GOOD can come from that?...None... JerichoXOC forced to continue. XD sharie LOL
1. Course of Hate and Realization is Strong

**The Course of Hate and Realization is Strong**

The fans didn't cheer.  
They didn't scream any names.  
They just sat there.  
In silence.  
Dead, deafening silence.

The announcer's voice buzzed behind me. I just watched the scene from the sidelines. I sat, bewildered, at the side of the ring, the match was over, yet there was no sound. Chris Jericho's eyes locked on mine for a brief second. He was bloodied and battered. His eyes glazed over before his head fell to the mat. I couldn't stand it. I jumped to my feet quickly and ran over to him. I placed a shaking hand on the side of his face. Hot. Blistering heat. Thats what radiated off his skin where I had touched it. A tremor shook his body slightly as a bloodied hand brushed against mine. I glanced over at Shawn, his competitor; he was just as bad off as Chris, laying flat on his chest. Even I thought this had gone too far.

"Chris…Honey" I whispered, brushing a bloodied blonde strand out of his face." You need to get up, the match is over".

No answer.

"Chris" I tried again, gently brushing my pale fingers along his reddened cheek bone.

Again, no response.  
Realization hit me like a truck. My eyes widened in fright. A prickle of pain hit me quickly, before tears started streaming down my cheeks. Something had gone wrong. Horribly wrong. He was supposed to get up and walk out. Both were, after they shook hands as a sign of respect. Had their hatred gotten too strong? Had they actually, physically, beaten each other to an extent of no return? I turned to Lillian, whom noticed my distress automatically, called the announcer and told him something to quickly for me to catch in my lightheaded, worried head.

"PARAMEDIC! PARAMEDIC! GET DOWN HERE NOW!" the announcer's voice was panic-stricken, he turned to Lillian and mouthed "something is wrong"  
I grabbed Chris' hand and squeezed it tightly, but there was still no signs or responses from him. My heart pounded deep in my chest as the stretchers came and secured him in. They forced me to let him go. Quickly, I kissed his cold lips and they wheeled him away, disappearing behind the entrance ramps.  
"I love you.." I whispered "That's all I want you to know"

As soon as he disappeared behind the ramps, I ran to Shawn's side. Unlike Chris, Shawn was awake and aware of his surroundings.

"Shawn? Shawn?" I whimpered brokenly, as I grabbed his hand and held it. "The match is over, Talk to me."

He flickered his tired eyes over to me and smiled.  
"I won..."  
He sounded evil, unforgiving, and almost demonic, as if he was proud of what he had done. I stiffened, letting his hand fall to his side again.

"This...This was just a match…That's it…You weren't supposed to go this far, he wasn't supposed to get this hurt...He may have deserved it..But…why Shawn!?!" I stuttered so much I barley understood myself.

Another evil laugh slipped out past his lips before his body went limp. They wheeled him away quickly. I stood there, staring at my bloodied hand, realization coursing through me. Shawn MEANT to do that; Shawn MEANT to hurt Chris that bad. That was the PLAN. I blinked, hoping it would wipe some of the coming tears away. I dashed up the ramp behind the entrance leaving silent fans completely unaware.


	2. Drowning In Their Whispers

**Chapter 2  
Drowning In Their Whispers**

Behind the ramp and ring was much more of a mess then out by the ring. It was louder, and I knew everyone. I knew all the crying faces that crowded me in the back. All the girls were crying. And most of the guys were as well. The last time I seen them all cry like this was when Eddie or Benoit died, or when Ric left the WWE. It was painful to watch them all cry and worry about their friends. That's what they were. Friends. My friends. Each new crying face that I happened to glace upon pulled on my heartstrings. It was aching terribly before I forced myself to look away. I couldn't stop the feeling though. It was as if someone was chocking me. Restricting my air pipes and trapping all air from my lungs. It hurt. Killed. I wanted to pass out as the world faded more and more from my vision. I held onto their whispers. I tried calling out. Crying for Caria, Eiris, Dameon, Sasha. Someone. Anyone. But they weren't there. I was alone. All I could hear were faint sobs and the whispers about how bad the damaged really were.

"Shawn couldn't see when he was carried out" a few monotone voices bellowed" he was screaming"  
"Jericho could breathe, or wasn't breathing. He had that tube in his mouth. He looked Pale"  
"He might have broken ribs"  
"there was so much blood"  
"Why did this happen?"  
"…how can she live with this?"

A tremor of sadness rushed over me, as I silently drowned in their whispers. It felt as if my lungs would explode. I just can't explain it. Over all the whispers that, to me, sounded louder than the crowd that had started cheering for the next match, I heard the faint sounds of the distancing paramedic vehicle that held 2 of the most important people I've even had in my life.

"They didn't wait for me..." I managed to whisper to myself" they took them away, without me with them."

The world all around me was spinning, as if somehow, its rotations had sped up to 200x as much as it should have been. The faces of the people I loved, cared for, adored. Faces of friends, family and co-workers. They all became blurs. Twisted, sickening blurs. All at once the vivid memories of the blood, the real blood, flooded back to me. The pools of crimson. The blood of a father figure. The blood of the man I loved the ghastly glaze that Chris had in his eyes, the mist that seemed to hover over both his pupils. A sharp stabbing pain ripped through my head as Shawn's demonic laugh cut into both my ear drums. Only a memory. My hand tingled uncomfortably. It felt hot. On fire. Like Chris's skin. How it felt when I put my hand on Chris's forehead when he was still lying in the ring. It was as if I was reliving the moments I was clueless about how bad this situation truly was. Panic returned to me as my hand continues to tingle. Slowly, I let my eyes gaze at my tingling hand. My right hand, the one that had touched the battered face o f Chris Jericho. The one that held the hand of the man who battered him.

Crimson. No, Rusty red, Dried into the skin of my hand_. His_ blood. Their blood. My hand started shaking, as the same familiar sting prickled in both my eyes. I was going to cry. Not again. Damnit. I was scared and broken.

More like terrified and shattered.

I realized then that it wasn't only my hand shaking. It was my entire body that trembled. I felt my legs buckling underneath me, as the sound of the whispers grew louder. It sounded more like the crowd had multiplied and were all screaming directly into my ear drum. A tear trailed its way down my cheek.

A firm hand grasped my shoulder and turned me around. It was Jeff. He had a huge smile on his face. Obviously oblivious. That is, until, he seen my eyes. My pain. His face changed drastically, into a more surprised look. He wasn't oblivious; he knew exactly what was happening. He came to cheer me up. I needed that. Desperately. His arms curled around me tightly, one gently brushing my hair with his fingers and the other securing me against him.  
"Don't worry…I got you" his voice was calm and consoling.

"I've got you"


End file.
